


Okay

by hotrodngold (Krystalicekitsu)



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Coming Out, Confessions, M/M, brief mentions of homophobia
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 15:01:36
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 830
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/737005
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Krystalicekitsu/pseuds/hotrodngold
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>He figures his sketchbook is safe from the notoriously short attention span of the average American crow.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Okay

Steve takes a deep breath, braces himself. Feet planted firmly, eyes locked and jaw squared. 

He opens his mouth.

"I'm gay," Captain Steve Rodgers says, firm with conviction, and maybe a little bit defensive.

Tony blinks at him, half awake, a pot of coffee clutched in one hand, his undershirt oil- and grease-stained, the arc reactor a muted blue haze under fabric, hair sticking up, dark smudges under his eyes, and very much not completely coherent.

"Okay," he says, and wanders back out of the kitchen, empty pot in one hand, the bag of un-ground beans in the other.

Steve sighs.

* * *

"Okay."

Hours later, Steve blinks, looks up. He hopes the crow won't wander off, but considering it'd been attempting to gut his orange for nearly ten minutes now, he figures his sketchbook is safe from the notoriously short attention span of the average American crow.

"Okay," Tony repeats, staring down at him with something that's half confusion, half suspicion, and maybe mixed with speculation, "I'm pretty sure, no, wait sort of sure, because I really wasn't awake and you know how I get when I'm not awake, Steve, really, why would you try to talk to me at seven in the morning that's just evil okay- you remember the thing on 27th, everyone remembers that thing on 27th, but my point _is_ \- that there was talking and I'm nearly 47.2 percent sure it was being done by you and I'm pretty damn sure it was important."

Steve blinks again. "Was there a question in there? I'm sorry, I think I got lost around 'I'm a horrible morning person. Growl. Give me coffee'."

Tony snorts. "This morning. You. Me and said coffee, pre-drunk. Conversation of the one-way sort."

"Oh," Steve looks down, fiddling with the edge of the page he'd been working on. The book's slightly stained along the top edge from where Clint had knocked over his soda in an expressive fit of frustration. 

They really need to stop letting him play games he has no chance of beating.

"Steve."

Steve adds another line to a row of feathers, gathering his nerve.

"You probably weren't wrong," he says, cringing at the display of cowardice for half a second before looking back up and meeting Tony's eyes. 

"I said, 'I'm gay'." And he lets that hang there, chin lifted, defiant, because he doesn't think Tony would hate him for it, would abandon or curse him, it's still-

It took him two years to admit to _himself_ that he preferred other men over a dame, and that was after he woke up seventy years into the future and discovered that there was a word other than 'freak' for his desires, and that it was perfectly, completely legal.

Tony's the first person he's told.

"Okay," Tony repeats, blinking down at him. "That's awesome, Cap, but really, there was something, I'm sure it was something important, I remember that little tick you get in your neck right before you tell me to turn down the music or stop being so difficult or- oh my god, that was it, that was totally it- Steve. Steve, oh my- are you coming out to me? Is this, like, your debut? Should I get a dress? No, wait, scratch that, my hips look ridiculous in black satin, but there should be champagne."

Steve can feel his lips quirk, and not in a happy way.

Teasing. Tony's teasing him.

"That's alright, Tony." And yes, the smile is stretched and quite possibly ugly across his mouth.

But Tony stops, stares at what his mouth is doing, then glances up to his eyes, and his posture changes. It wouldn't be completely noticeable to anyone other than Steve, because Steve has spent two years on and off the field studying this man, but. 

But. 

Steve watches as the shoulders drop down a fraction of an inch, stop pushing back so forcefully. The eyebrows, always slightly raised, relax and the half-quirk, 'I'm amused at the world' lift to the corner of his mouth disappears with it. He looks at once, more serious, and more comfortable in his skin.

He didn't think Tony could do the latter more completely than he already was.

"I suppose," Tony says, slow and easy, "you might like to hear that the champagne is completely welcome, because now I can ask you out, and not worry about a broken jaw."

"I- What?"

"A broken jaw," Tony repeats, dutifully, nodding. "From my asking you out, and your 40s-self finding the thought of dating another guy offensive."

Tony eventually fills the long pause where Steve can't form thoughts with more words, "Not that I think you're a bigot or anything. But," the quirk returns, shadowed and sardonic, "we're all products of our times."

"I- Can-," _No,_ Steve thinks firmly, _do it._ "I'm going to kiss you."

The shadows disappear and Tony's grinning, happy and free, dancing on the edge of laughter just before Steve presses his lips to his.


End file.
